The Magic Shop, a film by Ian Emes

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An illustration by Arthur Wallis Mills from The Strand Magazine, June, 1903.

I had not thought the place was there, to tell the truth—a modest-sized frontage in Regent Street, between the picture shop and the place where the chicks run about just out of patent incubators—but there it was sure enough. I had fancied it was down nearer the Circus, or round the corner in Oxford Street, or even in Holborn; always over the way and a little inaccessible it had been, with something of the mirage in its position…

Despite writing about an HG Wells adaptation only a week ago I hadn’t gone searching for more of them when this one turned up anyway, rather like Wells’ mysterious shop. I’d actually been looking at the filmography of the late Ian Emes, a director best known for the short animations he made for Pink Floyd’s concerts, although his career encompassed animated shorts like The Beard as well as longer films for television and the cinema. The Magic Shop, which was made in 1982, looks as though it might have been another of those shorts that used to be programmed as supporting titles for first-run features in British cinemas. Andrew Birkin’s Sredni Vashtar was one of these, a film which is also under 30 minutes in length and an adaptation of a popular piece of Edwardian fiction.

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HG Wells’ story was first published in The Strand Magazine in June 1903 then collected in Wells’ Twelve Stories and a Dream a few months later. It’s been one of my favourite Wells stories since I first read it at the age of 11, as I mentioned in this review of the 1964 TV version. Wells’ fantasy reached me just as I was beginning to get very interested in conjuring tricks. I’d also been reading Victorian ghost stories in the reprint collections being published by Puffin and Lion, so a story about a shop that sold magic tricks, where the premises and proprietor had a slightly sinister quality, was exactly the kind of thing I wanted to read.

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Ian Emes’ adaptation is a more successful Wells film than The Door in the Wall, and a much better adaptation of the story itself than the attempt to update the tale for The Alfred Hitchcock Hour, but Emes still doesn’t really capture the spirit of the story. The main flaw is that the actor playing the boy who wants to explore the shop is too old for the role. The narrator’s son in the story is around five or six years old, and much of the tension in the telling comes from the way that the boy sees everything that’s happening as delightful and magical while the father experiences rising alarm at the unfolding events and the situation in which the pair find themselves. The second half of the story, in which father and son are led by the shopowner into the labyrinthine warehouse behind the shop, is also lacking. Emes’ production may have been compromised by its budget but there’s no sign of the surprises that you might have expected to be filmed by a former animator. Derek Jarman regular Karl Johnson plays the father, Ron Cook is the shopowner, and there’s a cameo near the beginning from William Rushton as the man whose whining son is denied admittance to the shop. (Rushton had earlier provided the voice of the afflicted shaver in The Beard.) At the end of Emes’ film father and son find themselves teleported to what looks like a back street somewhere near the river instead of being returned to a busy London street. This reminds me that the first time I visited Regent Street myself at the age of 13 I had half a mind to go looking for the “Genuine Magic Shop”—or to try and identify the place where it might have been. The elusive nature of Wells’ establishment makes it the forerunner of the chemist shop owned by the malevolent Grail-seekers in Charles Williams’ War in Heaven, which makes me wonder now whether Williams borrowed the idea from Wells.

Ian Emes’ film may be seen at his Vimeo channel (log-in required, or you can use the Vimeo app). The story can be found in a collection of fifty-four of Wells’ short stories at Standard Ebooks, the home of free, high-quality, public-domain texts.

Previously on { feuilleton }
The Door in the Wall, 1956
Claude Shepperson’s First Men in the Moon
The Beard, a film by Ian Emes
Uncharted islands and lost souls
Doctor Moreau book covers
The Island of Doctor Moreau
Harry Willock book covers
The Time Machine
The Magic Shop by HG Wells
HG Wells in Classics Illustrated
The night that panicked America
The Door in the Wall
War of the Worlds book covers

The Door in the Wall, 1956

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The Door in the Wall is one of HG Wells’ most popular short stories, a fable-like piece which has slipped across the genre barriers into collections as diverse as Tales of the Unexpected (1924), More Ghosts and Marvels: A Selection of Uncanny Tales (1927), The World’s Great Mystery Stories (1943), The Dream Adventure (1963), Magazine of Horror (1965), The Sixth Fontana Book of Great Ghost Stories (1970), Tales of the Occult (1975), Black Water: The Anthology of Fantastic Literature (1983), Classic Science Fiction Stories (2022), and many others. The categorisations are more an attempt to fill out a contents list with quality material than a reflection of the story itself. Most readers would regard The Door in the Wall as a straightforward work of fantasy, in which a small boy discovers a door in a wall in a very ordinary London street, a portal which leads him into a paradisiacal garden. When the boy grows into man he remains haunted and eventually tormented by his memories of the enchanted world he found beyond the door.

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Given the popularity of the story and its simple narrative you’d expect there to be more film adaptations than there are. This short from 1956 (links below) was the only directorial effort by Glenn H. Alvey, and a very odd film it is. What might have been a worthy if uninspired transcription of Wells’ tale is here confounded by Alvey’s “Dynamic Frame”, a trademarked invention which involved filming the whole thing in VistaVision then masking portions of the frame with a matte that continually changes the aspect ratio of the picture to suit the action, even following the actors around the screen. Adjusting the aspect ratio while the film is running isn’t an uncommon technique but Alvey’s process is a distinctly obtrusive one, which no doubt explains why it wasn’t further developed elsewhere. As for the adaptation, the enchanted garden beyond the door turns out to be nothing more than a large and very typical English country estate, with a few parrots and a pair of caged budgerigars providing some exotic flavour. (Now that London has wild parakeets roosting in its trees even these details are no longer exotic.) Wells’ garden is a numinous and magical place, one that might have been better represented with a change from black-and-white to colour, as when Dorothy opens the door to Oz. Alvey’s adaptation is worth watching more for its views of ungentrified post-war London streets than it is for the drama. It also features an unusually restrained musical score by James Bernard, a composer better known for the thundering soundtracks he provided for many Hammer horror films. Bernard aside, HG Wells’ stories deserve better treatment than this.

The Door in the Wall: part one | part two

Previously on { feuilleton }
Claude Shepperson’s First Men in the Moon
Uncharted islands and lost souls
Doctor Moreau book covers
The Island of Doctor Moreau
Harry Willock book covers
The Time Machine
The Magic Shop by HG Wells
HG Wells in Classics Illustrated
The night that panicked America
The Door in the Wall
War of the Worlds book covers

Weekend links 751

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The Treasures of Satan (1895) by Jean Delville.

• Among the new titles at Standard Ebooks, the home of free, high-quality, public-domain texts: Là-Bas, the celebrated account of Satanism in fin-de-siècle France by Joris-Karl Huysmans.

• New music: Chronicle by ARC, and The Invisible Road: Original Recordings, 1985–1990 by Sussan Deyhim & Richard Horowitz (linked here before but that was for the pre-release).

Fabulous Animals (1975), a six-part British TV series about cryptozoology presented by David Attenborough (!).

• At Colossal: “Colour and repetition form optical rhythms in Daniel Mullen’s geometric paintings“.

• At Public Domain Review: Anton Seder’s The Animal in Decorative Art (1896) turns up again.

Unseen scenes from Sergei Parajanov’s The Colour of Pomegranates.

• Steven Heller’s font of the month is Roadhouse.

Fanzine covers selected by DJ Food.

Mark Webber’s favourite records.

Satan Side (1972) by Keith Hudson | Satan Is Boring (1986) by Sonic Youth | Sataan Is Real (1991) by Terminal Cheesecake

Weekend links 749

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Fantastic Sea Carriage (1556) by Johannes van Doetecum the Elder & Lucas van Doetecum, after Cornelis Floris the Younger.

• “Preiss and McElheny have acknowledged the influence of Jorge Luis Borges’s short story ‘The Library of Babel’ (1941), which offers a brilliant, brain-scratching disquisition on bibliotecas as conduits both of infinity and meaninglessness. I also found myself thinking of Arthur Fournier, in D. W. Young’s documentary The Booksellers (2019), who spoke of ‘the psychic dreaming that paper allows.'” Sukhdev Sandhu on The Secret World, a film by Jeff Preiss and Josiah McElheny about the books collected by Christine Burgin.

• Most people know Burt Shonberg’s paintings—if they know them at all—from their appearance in Roger Corman’s Edgar Allan Poe films. But Shonberg had a career outside the cinema, something explored in Momentary Blasts of Unexpected Light: The Visionary Art of Burt Shonberg, an exhibition currently running at the The Philosophical Research Society in Los Angeles.

Warriors (1996), an ad for Murphy’s Irish Stout directed by the Quay Brothers. Samurai warriors in an Irish pub scored to the theme from Yojimbo.

The Grand Jeu group have been neglected, at least in English-speaking history, from the general consciousness of “Surrealism” but they remain among its most interesting dissidents. The teenage Simplistes, led by [René] Daumal and [Roger] Gilbert-Lecompte, collectively experimented with consciousness and investigated wildly syncretic modes of destroying and recombining selves: diverse hermetic and occult systems, extrasensory perception, trances and somnambulism, mediumistic practice and collective dreaming.

[…]

The Grand Jeu was a project of paradox: artistic and ascetic, indulgent and severe, political, and mystical, ecstatic and negating, egoistic and selfless, graceful and violent. It sought to continually weave between collectivity and individuality, of art and life, multiplicity and unity, fed by a brew of political radicalism, inspired by Rimbaud’s germinal poetics of revolt and illumination, a utilitarian embrace of occult traditions and ideas, drug experimentation, Hindu sacred texts (Daumal would become an expert in Sanskrit) and some of Bergson’s philosophy. They were, in their own words, “serious players.” It was a mad mix, and in retrospect, clearly doomed to a short life—so, it turned out, were most its members.

Gus Mitchell on the “experimental metaphysics” of the Grand Jeu

• At Smithsonian magazine: Lanta Davis and Vince Reighard on the sculpted monsters and grotteschi that fill the Sacro Bosco at Bomarzo, Italy.

• At Bandcamp: George Grella compiles a list of “spooky sounds and spooky music, things to haunt nights and dreams”.

• At Colossal: Kelli Anderson’s amazing pop-up book, Alphabet in Motion: How Letters Get Their Shape.

• “The play that changed my life: Jim Broadbent on Ken Campbell’s electrifying epic Illuminatus!

• DJ Food browses some of the many album covers designed by the versatile Robert Lockhart.

Winners of the 2024 Nikon Photomicrography Competition.

• Mix of the week: XLR8R Podcast 873 by Andy Graham.

• The Strange World of…Lou Reed.

• The Internet Archive is back!

Warriors (1990) by Jon Hassell | Red Warrior (1990) by Ronald Shannon Jackson | Bhimpalasi Warriors (2001) by Transglobal Underground

Terra Incognita, a film by Adrian Dexter and Pernille Kjaer

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I was going to mention this one a few weeks ago but it vanished from Vimeo for a while following some kind of copyright complaint. It’s good to find it returned. Terra Incognita is 20 minutes of animated fantasy that’s very reminiscent of René Laloux’s cult SF films Fantastic Planet (1973) and Gandahar (1988), also the Brizzi Brothers’ Fracture (1977). Much as I’d like to see another feature in the Laloux manner, something spun from the art styles of Métal Hurlant, short films are the most you can realistically hope for outside Japan. (There is another Caza-designed feature, The Rain Children, but like the Druillet-designed TV series, Bleu, l’enfant de la Terre, it’s a simpler story aimed at a juvenile audience.)

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Terra Incognita was directed by Adrian Dexter and Pernille Kjaer, with the pair also working on the backgrounds and storyboards. The first part of the film is a creation myth which establishes the genesis of a mysterious island somewhere on the Earth whose inhabitants are four prematurely aged, immortal men. The quartet share the island with the blue giant who created them, together with a variety of unusual flora and fauna which includes luminescent psychotropic mushrooms. The accidental death of their creator leaves the islanders marooned in a world they were only beginning to learn about. The film is meticulously crafted, with an open-ended narrative that avoids melodrama when the men are faced with incursions from the outside world. And there’s a further connection to 70s’ fantasy in the soundtrack which incorporates a piece from Bo Hansson’s prog-synthesizer album, Music Inspired By Lord Of The Rings. Films like this require so much creative effort that you can’t expect more of the same any time soon, but I’m curious to see what Dexter & Kjaer may do in the future.

Previously on { feuilleton }
Arzak Rhapsody
Fracture by Paul and Gaëtan Brizzi
The Captive, a film by René Laloux